Nemesis
by Onyxx-09
Summary: Stiles bolted awake, screaming. It had happened again. There was blood everywhere, on the walls, on their clothes, on his hands. "Please," he cowered, feeling the restraints bounding his wrists to the bed. The nurses' eyes ran right over him, ignoring him. He looked across from him and paled. The two dark figures stood—one shorter, the other with gauze around its head. He screamed.
1. Chapter 1

**This ****** sucks at uploading stories.**

**Titled this because I couldn't think of a better one at 12 in the morning. This is quickly written before the episode Riddled. *shivers* I fell asleep before I could post it.**

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He bolted awake, yelling. The sound wrenched from his throat for harshly, his voice soon escaped him, and he was quickly left blowing out hot air exasperatedly.

Stiles screamed. Tears streaming down his cheeks.

It had happened again. It was another dream. Just like last night and the night before and the night before...

There was blood. So much blood, on the floor, on the walls, on their clothes. It was on his hands. So much.

He felt strong arms wrap around his body, holding him down, and he slowly calmed, hearing his father's voice. Then he cried.

He could still feel it—the heavy fear that felt like a literal boulder over him. He had seen the razor-teeth they had as their eyes stared empty up to the dark ceiling. He knew that it wasn't real, though—neither of them had their wolf fangs. Allison, Isaac, Ethan, Aiden, Derek, Lydia and Scott had lied ripped, shredded, tangled and some dismembered on the we school tile.

Stiles blinked and tried to collect his bearrings. It was nighttime, the curtains were drawn. A tray of untouched food lied on a nearby tray underneath a vase of lilies. The sheets were dry this time and the blankets were warm. ...This bed wasn't his.

He jerked, attempting to sit up again. His arms pulled him back, refusing to move. He began to panic again when he saw his wrists were still strapped to the railing.

The twitching, impulsive need to scratch at himself again washed over his senses like a wave.

This time, in actual reality, not a dream-state, Stiles did scream. And quite loudly. Many in the hospital froze what he or she was doing, hearing the bloodcurdling scream.

"It was the girl in darkness," his lips'll quiver for the umpteenth time. "Nemesis is coming." He'd rock back and forth as another nameless nurse checked his temperature. His fidgeting had worsened, so has his itching and impulsiveness.

His father would have been watching thru the window, he _had_ been, before, but after so many times, after his constant...episodes, it just became too much to bare for the poor sheriff. His had-been friends were the same. It began with Derek—he'd been the first to walk out when Stiles experienced his first seizure. Then it was Isaac, the twins, and then Lydia. That had hurt. Scott had been the last to leave him, to abandon him, and he hadn't even known. All that was left was a DVD and an 'I'M SORRY. GET BETTER SOON.' scribbled on a piece of paper Scott dropped off while he was sedated. That was what when he began to completely lose it.

As he screaming continued, two to three nurses rushed into the room. He wasn't sure how many, all he could tell was there was that his gown was being ripped open and cold stethoscopes pressed to his skin. He was more focused on the dark figure standing at the wall across the room.

Stiles tried to scoot backwards as if that would put more distance between the two and he could escape the leather restraints bounding him. His wrists pulled at the brown leather, destroying the scabs that were beginning to heal and turning his skin a bright, delicious crimson.

Cold, rubber-clad fingers inched across his body. No matter how much he writhered, how much he'd try to convince him that he was fine, to try and tell them of the figure that constantly followed him, they never listened. Whenever he tried to get away, they were somehow much stronger.

"Please," he coward to a woman on his right.

She shown a bright light into his eye, looking for any abnormalities. His pupils were shrunken significantly and the circles under his eyes seemed to have gotten worse. His eyes seemed to have sunken deeper into his skull as well. He looked the definition of "unwell" turned up several notches.

"You have to let me out." His voice strained, failing him after pushing it to the extreme hourly.

The woman simply looked him over and began speaking to one of the males in the room, her eyes passing over him like he was an unflattering entrée piece.

Stiles turned to the man at his left. "You have to see them. Th-they're right there. They're right THERE!"

The man merely placed a hand on Stiles' forehead and forced him back down to the pillows.

"It's okay, Stiles," the third reassured him, standing at his feet, where he was doing something to Stiles' ankles... "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no..." Stiles muttered.

When he looked up towards the black figure against the white walls, he saw that another was standing alongside the first, its head bowed. This time, Stiles thrashed violently.

"_NO NO NO NO NO NO! !_"

His sudden movements had caught the nurses off guard. When they snapped out of their shock, the three struggled to get the teen under control.

The second figure against the wall began raising its head, and a fresh wave of tears began cascading down the young Stilinski's pale cheeks.

The first figure, Lyssa—he'd known her, a deceased childhood friend of his who recently began haunting him—showed one of her hideous, abnormally wide and dark smiles. Though she appeared no younger than a few years younger that he, that made no difference to the pockmarks, burns and lacerations on her dirty, gray skin and still strike fear into his heart.

Stiles froze, completely taken by fear. The nurses eyed him. They looked from his suddenly pale face to where he was staring at. All they saw was a wall.

Stiles watched her face twitch supernaturally and her dead lips whispered, "Nemesis is here."

It was faint and sounded just as that of a small child's. Nemesis, that name, she had whispered to him more than one—when he slept, when he was awake, when he was with friends, during lacrosse practice. At times she'd call it to him, sometimes she'd talk as if it were a different person.

Nemesis.

Nemesis.

She'd written it on his bedroom wall, an invisible script only he could see until he was now afraid to go home.

She'd draw it on the bathroom mirror under his head, where his shoulders would be, almost like a name tag.

The more bodies that piled up in Beacon Hills, the more she'd chant it like a mantra.

Nemesis.

Nemesis.

Nemesis.

She whispered her in his ear during lectures. He'd hear it in the trees. He began to see what Lydia felt like, but she denied, saying her psychic episodes were never this continuous or extreme. Along with the period he was illiterate still in their minds, she was the first to suggest that something else was going on with him that was not normal.

And then he found his mother's diary. It was a personal journal he found his father had kept tucked away when Stiles was snooping in his room after his father refused to release information on the ritual killings. His mother had written about seeing the same small Greek child soon after her death. Claudia began going crazy then. To Stiles, she resembled a cross between the girl from the horror movie The Ring and Mama from the film of the same name.

Whenever he'd see the name, whether it be etched into wallpaper or written in blood on his school paper, whenever he'd blink 'NEMESIS' was suddenly gone with no trace of it ever having been.

He tried telling Scott, after Lydia, but he brushed it off as Stiles was just "needed some sleep," that he "needed to calm down," and other bullshit. Stiles had explained that _that_ WAS the reason he was so hyperactive and afraid to go to sleep. He had even tried—it was just almost worst than when he was awake, because dreams can be more terrible than reality.

_"Darkness is coming."_

The girl had said that he would come and destroy us all. That Nemesis will soon be upon us. That Nemesis is coming. That Nemesis had risen the date Stiles, Scott, and Allison cheated death.

_"There will a sorta...darkness around your hearts... You won't be the same."_

Nemesis

Nemesis

Nemesis

Nemesis

Nemesis

Nemesis

Stiles' eyes bugged out of his head, watching the ends of his white bedsheets. The dead girl raised an injured finger to her lips in a shush motion and whispered.

"Stiles. ..._Stiles_." One of the nurses called him but he didn't hear.

The second figure—Nemesis—raised it's head. Stiles swallowed; his entire body was drenched in sweat. The entire of Nemesis' head was wrapped in layer after layer of old gauze. Stiles focused on the only openings—where its jagged teeth shown through, and the two obsidian orbs that were its eyes.

A scream was on the edge of his tongue.

_"Your dog friends can't help you,"_ she had scoffed at him once, in the dead of night. _"Man fall prey to their own minds time and time again..."_

Stiles' lip quivered, looking much like a small child. He shook his head, silently pleading for them to go away. A tear ran down his nose.

In any other circumstance, Stiles would have scolded himself on how pitiful he must have looked, having liquid oozing from his eyes, nose, and mouth slightly. But now, all that he could do was beg for his life, his sanity, though words escaped him.

He didn't want to blink either because he knew if he did, things would just get worse.

But he did.

And instantly Nemesis was upon him, wrapping his hands around Stiles' throat. Lyssa was beside him on the bed, dead amber eyes watching Stiles in glee. And though he didn't want to, Stiles looked, and saw the face that belonged to Nemesis was none other than his own. Some twisted, messed up version of himself in every sense of the way, stared down at him with an unnaturally wide, jagged grin.

The nurses flailed. Buttons were pushed, machines bleeped like crazy. Doctors raced down the hall. The two dark figures remained on Stiles' chest, literally, Nemesis' fists like concrete.

Electric pulses were shocked thru Stiles' body. Hands pressed on his temples, on his chest. He was hooked up to another machine for breathing. And Nemesis' hands were quickly closing the gap between each other.

All the while, Stiles' body continued convulsing violently under the white sheets.

Monitors' beeping slowed. Nemesis smiled darkly, and Stiles' eyes turned up, showing white.

Then a nurse put her hand out to stop the doctor who was on her way to run for more help.

The monitor showed a flatline.

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**Rated M because I'm not sure if this is T appropriate. Additional info, Lyssa is the name of the greek goddess of raging fury and madness. This is my first attempt at horror-like writing, how'd I do?**


	2. Chapter 2

**! ! !**

Stop following this story! It is over!

This is only a oneshot and I will not be adding more to it.

If you want more, there is another Stiles oneshot I published. Please go easy on it though.

**! ! !**


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